The Gift of Giving
by Mistress Ashley
Summary: As many drabbles, fics, and stories as I can write until Christmas. Taking prompts now!
1. Index

This is an index that will be updated with each drabble, ficlet, or fic I post but for right now it's an invitation to submit your prompts. Give me a pairing, a bunny, a kink, or a combination -_anything_ really. Make it private if it's embarrassing and I promise I won't mention names -you'll be an anonymous submitter.

I reserve the right to decline, of course, but I'll only do this if I feel I won't do the fandom justice. I'll try my best to get to every prompt however! So send them to me!

1) **Figure Eights **- Buffy/NCIS  
2) **Deeply Broken **- Buffy/Supernatural (Buffy/Ruby NC17)


	2. Figure Eights

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything. Not Buffy and certainly not NCIS.

**AN:** Anonymous reviewer asked for Buffy/Gibbs, familial or romantic. I left it open to interpretation. Hope you enjoy and happy holidays! 

* * *

Buffy smiled softly, gaze taking in the Scoobies scattered around the tree. It was a huge monstrosity set into the corner of the old castle that the New Council had taken over. It was larger than any tree Buffy had ever had but it wasn't the tree that had the young woman smiling. The smile was for Xander who was digging under the tree. It was for Willow who was snuggled contentedly into Kennedy's side. It was for Dawn, her baby sister who was looking more grown up every time she saw her, curled up in a comfy armchair with a glass of eggnog, and it was for Giles who, like her, was watching the room with a smile twitching his lips up.

Still, there was a small hint of sadness and hurt that was bubbling up in her. He wasn't here. She knew, and understood, why he couldn't be here. The world didn't stop just because it was Christmas but that thought didn't lessen the hurt any.

"Hey, Buff? You expecting anything from someone?" Xander called from his place under the tree as he shook a large package between his hands.

Buffy frowned before she answered, "No." At least, she didn't think so. Her eyes slid to each Scooby in turn but none had even a hint of guilt or contained excitement. There was no way he could have gotten the package here on his own. Suspicion roused from deep within her as she took the package from Xander. It wasn't heavy to her Slayer strength but might have been a nuisance to any other girl of her size.

Her fingers worked the bow loose, tugging the festively wrapped lid off the box. A gasp escaped her as she moved the tissue paper to the side. Nestled in clouds of paper was a pair of figure skates. They weren't beautiful by any means-fairly simple if she was honest but they were beautiful to her. She lifted them gently from the paper, noticing the safety caps over the blades before her attention was drawn to the envelope that had been under them.

_Sorry I couldn't be there. Hope this makes up for it._

The note was just a ripped piece of paper that had been hastily written and shoved into the envelope. It wasn't even signed but Buffy didn't need a signature to know who it was from. Still, it wasn't like him to think that a pair of skates would make up for missing a family get together.

Buffy sighed sadly, pushing the note back into the envelope with care. Frowning when the note didn't slide in smoothly. Her fingers slipped into the parchment finding glossy bits of hard paper. Her eyes widened as she took in her find. Tickets, two insignificant bits of paper that meant the world to her. It was a show in New York, Central Park at that, that was set just days after Christmas. It would have some of the best figure skaters in the world skating with civilians-anyone who had the money to buy the tickets.

She felt her eyes tear up as her fingers traced over the tickets and then the skates. It wasn't the show or the money that was sure to have gone into buying the tickets that made all the difference.

It was an agreement to take her. It was an agreement to making an ass out himself all for her because Leroy Jethro Gibbs didn't know how to skate. Buffy laughed through the tears as the hurt disappeared.

Fin


	3. Deeply Broken

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy and I do not own Supernatural. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox.

**AN:** Millaros asked for Buffy/Ruby and I hope this meets all your expectations. Happy holidays!

Forgive any mistakes. I didn't get a chance to start this until about 2am and now, after 3am, I'm horribly tired.

**NOTE THE RATING! THIS IS GRAPHIC FEMSLASH!**

* * *

Buffy knew she had come back wrong. She just hadn't realized how wrong.

Coming back had been bright and sharp and all consuming. Being torn from the peace had been so very painful and to come back on a Hellmouth? It made every day excruciating. It grated on her every nerve, made her feel like every day was a PMS day. She knew her friends noticed, though they dismissed it in their happiness to have her back but it wasn't something Buffy could just dismiss.

She went in search of answers, questioning practitioners and covens. They, like Tara, told her that it was nothing more than a Heavenly 'sunburn'. She didn't believe that. She felt different, wrong. One of these things is not like the others, Buffy mused. After all her 'Light' contacts fell through she moved on to the neutral ones. Clem knew nothing but, reluctantly, pointed her in the direction of a man named Rack. Given how long the man had been alive Buffy wasn't so sure he could still be considered human. She conceded that the man was dangerous but discarded Clem's warnings that it would be better to stay away. She needed to know.

Buffy slipped through the dark streets, glad that she had managed to shake the Scoobys for the night. She had spent almost an hour 'following the feeling' as Clem had instructed. She had worried that she was too human to feel it but had been proven wrong shortly into her search. The spot Clem had pointed her towards showed little signs of magic meaning Rack had moved but there had been enough for her to follow.

Finally, she felt the barrier before her. It was like something Willow had done before, during the Glory thing. It felt like gel, pliable but still solid. Buffy was sure it was only 'solid' for those with magical ability or those not considered human. It wouldn't do to have civilians wandering in. She pushed her way through, finding herself in a room. It looked like a waiting room of a doctor's office, if a doctor's office used old mattresses to make couches, there was even a little table holding magazines.

A man stood in the center of the room. His hair was long and scraggly though most of it was pulled back bits fell around his face. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the junky curled painfully on the couch and the young boy huddled nervously in the corner. His gaze fell on her as she entered and it was like a caress deep within her. Buffy shuddered at the feeling. A smirk twitched his lips as he pointed towards her, "You."

With nothing more, he turned from her and entered a back room. A wail sounded from the couch as a girl no older than Dawn unwound herself, crawling across the floor towards the man. Her hand stretched out pleadingly into the room before she jerked back with a harsh cry. Buffy watched dispassionately as lightening arched from the doorway to her hand. The girl gave a sob as she crab walked back to the couch, returning to her previous position.

Buffy turned from the girl, following the man through the doorway with confidence. He had chosen her so there was no need to shock her.

The room beyond the door was dark and musty. It looked like a room out of an old mansion complete with candelabras hanging from the ceiling and hideous artwork on the walls. The man, who Buffy assumed was Rack, lounged in a throne like chair. His eyes followed her like a hawk would follow a mouse. There was also a knowing glint in them.

"You know why I'm here," Buffy stated. There was no uncertainty. He knew.

The light smirk on his lips grew larger. "With an aura like that, of course I do."

Buffy moved deeper into the room. The numbness that had been with her since her resurrection left her feeling nothing. She didn't think the man could kill her but she knew she would feel nothing if he did. Hell, she didn't think she'd feel anything if he killed everyone she knew right in front of her. She knew that was wrong but it didn't make the numbness go away. She'd feel worried if she could. "So, tell me what I want to know."

The man chuckled, slouching deeper into the chair. "That's not how it works around here. You give me what I want, and I give you what you want."

"I'm not ending up like that girl out there," Buffy jerked her head towards the other room.

"She came for the excitement, the high, of having her magic turned back on her. What I want from you is but a small taste. There will be no side effects to you."

Buffy gave it barely a thought before she agreed. She watched as he came forward, hand stretching out to touch her. His hand rested over her heart, glowing brightly as electricity arched between his fingers. She felt something deep within her stir lazily, like a lion rousing from a food induced stupor. It rose up through her body, meeting his fingertips and the man threw his head back, mouth open as he gasped for air. It was over almost as soon as it began and the lion settled back down.

The gasping lessened before laughter rose through the room. "Oh, you're even better than I expected," Rack exclaimed. He settled himself back into his chair, slumping down within it.

"You've had your fun. Now, tell me, what's wrong with me?" Buffy demanded.

"Do you believe in angels?"

It was an inane question to ask but Buffy found herself nodding anyway, listening intently.

"Good, that will make this all the easier. To bring a human back intact would require one of them. Except, by the looks of your soul, they didn't want you to leave. You've got a handprint," Rack's fingers slid around his ribs, "right here. Someone tried to hold on but the power behind the spell, the god that the little witch called up, dragged you out anyway. It's damaged you. Your soul is torn to shreds," he stated with satisfaction.

There was a dim hint of horror but nothing like what she was sure she should be feeling. Her soul was torn to shreds. That explained everything, didn't it? Sunburn her ass. "Is there any way to fix it?"

"Find an angel." Glee danced in the man's eyes as he watched her. "But, you'll be lucky to find one willing to help you. There are those who guard Heaven, probably one of them that held onto you, but once you're back on Earth you're under a whole 'nother jurisdiction. Those ones aren't too fond of humans, you understand? You'd be lucky if they didn't smite you for asking. You're likely to end up in Hell for coming back without their help, even if you had nothing to do with it. Best to just live with it, killer."

The nickname stirred that lion in her, resounded through her head and sent a shudder skittering down her spine. Slayer, killer, it was all the same and oddly, it didn't bother her much. Buffy gave a slight nod as she turned from the room. She left Rack's behind. She needed to find a way to deal with this and staying in Sunnydale was only going to get someone killed.

Buffy Summers walked out of Rack's, out of Sunnydale and just kept moving.

+++

Buffy tossed her head back with a moan, dragging her mind back to the present. The present was a lovely place to be. Here, like this, was the only time she felt alive. Her emotions burst from her, swamping a mind unused to dealing with them.

A husky chuckle echoed through the room, drawing Buffy's attention down the length of her body. The eyes that looked back at her were anything but normal. A deep, pitch black that sucked in the room's light. It wasn't the eyes that Buffy cared about though. The features were almost sharp and the long curls were almost a perfect blonde shade that matched her own. They could have passed for siblings and it was something they had used on more than one occasion.

"Pay attention, lover," the words were mocking but the fingers trailing over her bare thigh were tender–well, as tender as a demon could be but Ruby had been human once and remembered the emotions that went along with that humanity. She was so like Buffy and yet so different. Ruby had been a witch in life and not the Willowy kind of witch. She had sold her soul for enough power to survive the plague and had become a demon after her death. She wasn't like other demons though. She hadn't forgotten her human emotions and they still influenced some of her choices.

A sharp nip drew Buffy, once again, from her thoughts. Those black eyes were glaring at her, daring her to become distracted again but Buffy knew what she wanted. She wanted to feel and this was the only thing, the only person, who made her feel anything. Ruby would be leaving soon on a mission so this was their last night together for a while and Buffy intended to take full advantage of it.

Strong fingers wound through long blonde hair, tangling it around her fingers before she jerked the other woman up her body. The kiss was rough, teeth nipping at lips. The slayer, what she had once called a lion, raised its head at the scent of demon blood, purring as Buffy's tongue darted out to taste the acrid flavor.

Hands cupped her breasts, squeezing harshly. She arched into the body above her, crying out as a knee was wedged between her legs. Buffy ground herself against it, enjoying the sparks of pleasure that danced through her. Hot breath gusting over her ear, moans tricking in egged her on. She trailed fingers down Ruby's back, cupping the panty covered globes she used the hold to pull the woman closer. Her actions got a moan of approval. Buffy untangled her other hand from Ruby's hair and wedged it between them, sliding under the waistband of Ruby's panties. They were both so close and she knew just the thing to send Ruby over. She maneuvered through the slick folds, flicking repeatedly over the engorged clit as she listened to the hitching breaths. The body over hers tensed for just a moment before there was a gush of wetness over her hand, soaking through the panties and wetting her thigh.

A soft kiss was placed on her lips before Ruby slid down her body. The first touch of a tongue gliding through her folds was almost enough to push her over but she held on, fingers scrambling for purchase on the cheap motel comforter as she arched in pleasure. Licks, sucks, and light nibbles were applied liberally. A particularly sharp nib to her clit was what sent her tumbling into the abyss, pleasure suffusing her body. Her thighs clamped around Ruby's head, muscles twitching within her as she moaned her pleasure.

Lethargy set in and Buffy slumped back into the bed. Sex with Ruby was always wonderful and wrought with emotion. She sometimes wished the feelings would last longer but the emotions sapped from her with her strength. She was left with only vague echoes but enough remained for her to pull Ruby up the bed, lips meeting softly before they collapsed to the bed, snuggling into each other.

They both knew Ruby would be gone in the morning, off on her mission to convert the younger Winchester, but for tonight they were just two women who were as close to being in love as a demon and a broken slayer could possibly get.

FIN


	4. Guy Talk

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Not Buffy and certainly not CSI. I'm just borrowing the characters.

**AN:** First off, sorry for the delay. This weekend was a real killer.

Don't know where this takes place seeing as Riley would be in Sunnydale at this time and John would be in Miami. The only advice I can give is that you don't think too hard on it. Takes place just before Riley leaves and right before John commits suicide.

This one is for mmooch who wanted Riley and John to have a talk about Buffy/Calleigh who are too strong and independent for them. It turned out a bit … weirder than I was going for. Forgive me and happy holidays! 

* * *

Riley slumped lower in the booth with a sigh. He could feel the alcohol doing its job, turning everything slightly hazy and his eyes drooped in a long blink. Still, his mind wasn't here in this dirty little bar. His thoughts were with Buffy–his strong, confident, kick ass girlfriend. Except, was she his girlfriend? Middle of nowhere, Iowa had taught him many things. It taught him how to fight, gave him a love for his country and taught him always to protect his woman. It might have sounded whiny, but Buffy didn't need his protection. If anything, it was usually him that needed protecting.

He took a large gulp from the bottle set before him at this thought. He could just imagine what his father would say–him, a big strong soldier, needing protection from tiny little thing like Buffy. He snorted in disgust; not that he would ever be able to tell his father as then he would have to mention vampires and demons. They were likely to have him committed.

He pulled himself from his drunken pity party as the booth across the table suddenly became occupied. Riley turned his gaze around the room, finding many an empty table. God, just what he needed, to be hit on at a time like this.

Except, the man next to him didn't try to hit on him. This caused Riley to take a closer look; he squinted bleary eyes, taking in the military-esque cut of his hair, the slightly rumpled suit, and the cop's eyes that were looking back at him. There was also a hint of something else in those eyes. Riley couldn't place it exactly but it reminded him of Forrest's eyes, a hint of madness lurking in them. Where did it come from? Forrest's madness had come from the realization that the monster under the bed was real, and that it probably had tried to eat him as a child. What could possibly have happened to this man to put that look in his eyes?

The man took a sip of his drink, liquid courage, before he tipped it towards Riley, "To women; the ones you hate to love but can't live without."

Ah, that explained a bit, not the madness but the sadly beaten down look. It was the look that military men, the protectors, got when they dated a woman stronger than them. It didn't necessarily mean that the woman he was dating was physically stronger than him but she was the one wearing the pants in their relationship.

Riley tipped his own glass with a nod. The man was a kindred spirit in the dating ring. "So, what's she like?" He found himself asking. Anything to get his mind off his own relationship problems. Maybe hearing someone else's would make his own seem not so bad.

The man snorted into his drink. "Tiny little blond thing with more balls than any man I've ever met."

Ouch, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The man, need to ask his name, had just described Buffy to a 'T'. Riley swirled the last of his beer around the bottle, raising his hand to flag down the waitress. A moment later had him supplied with enough alcohol to, hopefully, get through this conversation.

The man relaxed into the cheap, sticky booth with a sigh. "What about you?" He looked vaguely embarrassed for a moment. "I'm John, by the way, Detective John Hagen."

The explained the military cut, the cop eyes, and some of the madness. He wondered if the madness came from undercover work or something else. "Riley," he nodded. There was no use giving rank or a last name. It was better not to anyway. No use dragging someone into the dark if they tried to find or investigate him. "And my girlfriend is much like yours, tiny and blond and chock-full of snark and protective urges."

"We wouldn't love them so much if they weren't the way they were, but do they have to castrate us all the time?" John asked sadly. "I got into this job to make a difference, to be somebody but anytime I try to do something good she's right there telling me I'm doing it all wrong–or looking at me like I'm the devil incarnate," he groused in disgust.

Okay, so their problems weren't exactly the same no matter how much their girlfriends might sound the same. Riley had gotten into the military out of some form of obligation. His transfer to Sunnydale showed him that he could do good … until he realized what a complete nut Walsh was. He had jumped at the chance of helping Buffy, of doing some real good. Was that why he was still with her? He loved her but she wasn't the kind of woman he dreamed of marrying. His thoughts turned to Angel and her almost obsession with him … Riley didn't think he was the kind of man she had dreamed of marrying either. So why were they still together?

"Why do you stay with her?" Riley found himself asking. He really was turning into a Scooby, wasn't he? His brain to mouth filter had just vanished.

A feverish light entered the man's pale eyes. It made Riley wary. It seemed the man had latched onto this woman and that was never a good thing. He remembered the time Forrest had become interested in a woman and it hadn't ended well. The only reason the woman had survived was because of Graham's quick thinking. After that, they had watched Forrest all the closer. "I love her. She just doesn't understand that I can be a hero too. Everything would be perfect if I could just make her see."

Maybe it was time for a strategic retreat. He wasn't running, Riley thought. He wasn't. And if he were it certainly wouldn't be because the crazy man was scaring him. He finished the last of his beer quickly and made his excuses.

Riley took one last look back at the defeated slump of the man's shoulders and had a horrible wave of premonition. The feeling was so bad that it had him digging out his untraceable phone.

"This is Agent Riley Finn and I've got a recruit for you."

John Hagen wanted to be a hero, fine, Riley just hoped he could live with the knowledge that came with that occupation.

Fin


	5. Probie Gets a Girl

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy or NCIS. I make no profit from writing this.

**AN:** This one is for Jessica who wanted McGee/Buffy. Happy holidays, Jessica!

* * *

Tony watched with narrowed eyes as McGeek's fingers flew over his keyboard. The first clue that something was wrong was that they didn't have a case right now. They had just wrapped one up and filed their reports. The second clue was that there was a stupid grin on the man's face. What was he up to?

His eyes flicked to where Ziva was cleaning up her desk. For a moment he thought she hadn't noticed but that was silly, of course she had noticed something was wrong. Now that he was watching he could see her eyes flicker to McGee every once in a while before she turned her attention back to her cleaning up.

He managed to catch her eyes, raising an eyebrow as he nodded in McGee's direction. All he got in return was a shrug and a shake of her head. So, she didn't know what was going on either. Well, that would just have to change. Tony Dinozzo wasn't one for secrets … unless they were his.

There was a near silent huff of laughter before McGee closed his laptop. He stood with a stretch before he moved through the room.

"Hey! Where are you going, McGeek?"

"Abby," McGee replied, as if that explained everything.

"Right," Tony breathed. He watched the elevator close behind McGee before a smirk crossed his lips. He was up out of his seat and across the room to McGee's computer before the elevator even started moving.

"Should you be doing that, Tony?" Ziva asked.

"Sure, I should. McGee's hiding something and it's our job as his friends to find out what."

"I thought you didn't like McGee. You fight like cats and mice."

"Cats and dogs," Tony corrected unconsciously. "And we don't fight … much. Besides, if he didn't want us looking, he wouldn't have left it here for us." Tony lifted the lid of the laptop, hitting the power button. It was simple after that to bypass the startup password. McGee was so predictable. Not a moment later the laptop was up and running. Now, what would McGee have been working on that he didn't want them to know about?

The recently viewed documents showed bits and pieces of a novel McGee was working on but he wouldn't have been hiding that. They all knew he wrote by now. Hmm, what else, what else? His eyes scanned over the screen. There were a few games icons on the desktop but nothing that would explain that stupid grin.

Ah! His messenger was still online. Could that be it? His fingers found the mouse, double clicking on the little icon. The messenger popped up on the side of the small screen. It was just his luck that McGeek hadn't closed his instant message before shutting down. It popped up as well and Tony's eyes widened at the words written. McGeek had an internet girlfriend who was in town and asking to meet.

He glanced furtively around the room, finding no one but Ziva who stood at his shoulder. He tapped on the screen name and a window opened. What kind of name was Buffy? He scanned down through the woman's profile. It said her temporary home was in Los Angeles by way of the late Sunnydale. She was twenty-three years old. He didn't know what he expected, a stern old librarian maybe, but not a girl barely legal. Maybe McGee was finally learning something from him?

There was no picture of the woman, just a crude drawing of a heart with what looked like a stake through it, but there was a link to a photo album. He clicked on the link, waiting only a bare second before the page loaded. Geez, why wasn't his computer this fast?

"Holy shit!" Tony exclaimed. The first picture on the new site was a group shot. It took up most of the screen. There were more than a few woman crowded around a large room with four men.

"Wipe your mouth, Dinozzo," Ziva advised. There was a bit of drool rolling down his chin and if it got onto the computer, they were busted. What did that mean anyway? It was probably something a man had come up with because didn't they used busted for a well-endowed woman?

Tony raised a shaky hand to brush away the wetness. There was a blond down front with a redhead and one of the men on either side. There was a younger brunette standing at the man's side and a brunette hanging onto the redhead. The older man was watching them with fond amusement. One of the woman caught Tony's more than the others however. She wasn't tall by any means; not like some of the woman, he had dated, but she was built for curves. She wore a pair of leather pants and a cropped top that certainly showed them off. The only problem was the tall, powerfully built man that stood territorially next to her. Damn.

Still, he was betting that with a name like Buffy she was the tiny blonde down front. How had McGee managed to snag a hottie like that? Did they exchange pictures? Maybe McGee had given her his picture instead of his own. Yeah, that sounded good. Maybe McGee would need to ask him to take her on their date?

Tony was practically rubbing his palms together at the idea when there was a ding. McGee had gotten a new message.

**SlayerQueen:**_ "I thought you were going home to change?"_

Tony turned frantically to Ziva who was suddenly _not_ beside him.

**SlayerQueen:** _"You don't have to cancel do you?"_

**GemcityLord:**_ "I remembered I forgot to send something for the last case. Didn't want anything getting in the way with what we agreed on."_

Tony barely smothered a snicker at the screen name. He guessed it was better than Elf Lord was though. He looked over what he had typed. That sounded like Probie; he was always worried about getting his reports finished. It would be just like him to screw up a date with a pretty woman by doing just that.

**SlayerQueen:** _"I thought you said you finished them?"_

Damn it. What was he going to do now? He wasn't the best of friends with McGee but the little geek was part of their team and you protected your own. He would never admit it aloud but it wouldn't feel right to ruin a date for McGee. Time to come clean.

**GemcityLord:** _"Alright, I'm not McGee. He left his laptop here and I was snooping."_

Why did he have to be such a good person?

The message didn't come through right away and he was beginning to wonder if he had done the wrong thing. Should he have just followed through, said he had finished the reports but had just forgotten to send one? Finally, a message telling him his friend was typing came up. It stayed like that for a moment, like the woman was hesitant to talk to him or send what she had written.

**SlayerQueen**: _"You're Tony, aren't you? Tim has told me about you. You sound a lot like a friend of mine … just like Abby sounds like Willow. Tim's gone, right? _

Was a hot chick like that really worried that geeky little Tim was going to stand her up?

**GemcityLord**: _"Yeah, he left a while ago."_

**SlayerQueen:** _"Crap. I better go get ready. A word of advice: stay away from Tim's computer. If he reacts anything like Willow, he'll tear your arms off and beat you with them if you screw something up. Talk to ya later."_

_SlayerQueen has signed off._

Tony pulled his hands away from the laptop with a wary look. He'd seen Abby in a rage and if she was like this Willow, he couldtotally see that happening. Would McGeek really react like that?

He reached forward hesitantly and shut the laptop down, closing the top gently. Better not to find out.

Timothy McGee waiting outside the restaurant. His fingers found his tie, fiddling nervously with it before moving to check the cuff-links. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to fidget. She would be here soon. Oh god, what was he doing? He wasn't anything special. At least not in the dating ring. Set him in front of a computer and he could hack anything but he had never been good with girls–especially not beautiful woman and that's definitely what Buffy was. She was also independent, wanting to meet him at the restaurant instead of having him pick her up but he decided he liked that about her too.

A new wave of panic settled over him as a dark car pulled up. Tim admitted he doesn't know as much about cars as Tony does but he could tell just from the look of this one that it was expensive. It went perfectly with the restaurant. Tim had brought along his banking card because heknew he would need to take a dip into it to pay for this meal. It was a very exclusive restaurant and he wasn't sure how Buffy had gotten reservations.

The car door opened and a blond head peeked over the top of the car as the woman handed her car keys to one of the valets. He watched her walk around the side of the car and felt his breath catch. She was even more beautiful than the photos had shown. Why was she here with him and not someone like Tony?

"Tim?" Her voice was like an angel's.

Alright, pull it together, Tim, he chastised himself, breathing deeply. The scent of her perfume drifted around him. It had a hint of something sweet that mingled with a deeper, darker scent. It was intoxicating.

"Yeah, uh, I mean, hi," he finished lamely. He could feel the blush as a rising heat in his cheeks.

Buffy smiled. This was what she needed. Tim was a good man but more than that, he was uncomplicated and didn't take her for granted. The conversations they had online and over the phone had been nice, more than nice after the hell that was Sunnydale. Tim had managed to soothe the burning pain that was her constant companion since her friends had dragged her from Heaven; he had managed to take the edge off the hurts of friends lost.

"Hey." Now she felt like Oz. What the hell, right? Buffy took the step forward and wrapped her arms around Tim, hugging him for the first time. Yeah, this was more than nice.

Now if they could just keep Tony and Xander apart everything would be perfect.

Fin


	6. The Horsemen Five

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy or Highlander and I make no profit from writing this.

**AN:** This one took on a mind of its own. It was just supposed to be a simple ficlet but then my fingers started typing and before I knew it everything was being dragged in.

The timeline has been completely screwed and you'll see what I mean when you start reading. Also, happy holidays to immortalbliss who wanted Buffy/Methos. It's probably not exactly what you were looking for but I hope you like it anyway, hun.

* * *

Buffy rolled as she touched down; her hands burned as they touched hot sand. The sun pounded down on her crumpled form. She was used to heat; she was a California girl after all, but this was nigh unbearable. The heat made it hard to draw breath and the dusty sand wasn't helping much. It cloyed in her throat, and she longed for a drink of fresh water, except there was only sand for as far as her Slayer enhanced sight could see.

Where was she? How had she gotten here? One moment she was telling Giles about last night's patrol and the icky, slimy thing that had ruined her new boots, the next she was in some barren wasteland.

This sucked, she thought as she turned in circles. Had some Hellmouthy thing dropped her in the Nevada desert or something? God, this was so going to ruin her last pair of boots. Still, she was thankful she was wearing boots because her Jimmy Choo's would so not hold up to this sand for more than a minute. As it was, she was working ten times as hard as the heel of her boots kept sinking into the sand. She mourned the scrapes the sand was putting in her $700 shoes. Whatever had sent her here was _so_ going to pay!

Picking a direction at random, Buffy began the laborious task of walking through miles of sand. The sun pounded on her back causing sweat to run from every available surface. She longed for water; she longed to rest, but Buffy continued to walk through the day. She ignored her bodies demands for food, for water, and for rest. She was grateful for the temperature drop that occurred with nightfall–until it dropped so far as to cause her to shiver. What the hell was up with the weather?

She was coming into her second day when she heard the sound of horses. At least, she thought it was horses. It could have been camels or something. Didn't people still ride those in deserts or was that just in the movies?

It turned out the sound was horses and Buffy found herself started at their clothes. Just because you lived in the desert didn't mean you shouldn't take care of yourself. They could really do with some moisturizer for that leathery skin. It was darkened to a deep brown by the sun and was deep with wrinkles. Their clothes were simple fabrics that didn't look very well put together. They were light but layered. Buffy guessed that made it easier to deal with the harsh sun and the cold nights–too hot, take something off; too cold, put something on.

The next thought, after clothing, was that she couldn't possibly be in Kansas anymore. They were speaking a language that she didn't know. Well, she didn't know many languages but research sessions with the Scoobys had given her the ability to pick out the basics of a language. This was not one of them. A word here or there sounded vaguely like an ancient demon language but the lilt and emphasis of the words was all wrong. It was an old language. Were they from an old demon tribe that had survived by hiding in a desert somewhere? But they looked human; hell, they _felt _human.

The problem with them being human? They were coming at her with swords. They were roughly hewn, nothing that would stand up to long use. Buffy could already see the chips in the metal. It sent a shiver down her spine. How many bones had those swords cleaved?

Buffy hesitated; she wasn't sure how to fight someone on horseback. Besides, these people were human; she didn't fight humans. The moment was upon her before she could decide the best way to fight back. The first sword sliced a deep gash across her chest and through her shoulder. She was lucky she had Slayer reflexes because that strike would have taken a normal human's head off. Her right arm was useless now. No matter how much she tried to move it, it wouldn't move. The sword must have sliced through something vital.

Damn it, she wasn't doing so well with both arms in perfect condition. She didn't want to hurt the horses; they hadn't done anything to her after all but they were so high that she couldn't reach more than the legs of the riders. She didn't have more than a small stake on her and that wouldn't do much against humans. Buffy sighed wearily as the seven men circled her. There were too many to fight in her condition. She was weary from walking all day and night with no food or water and now her right arm was useless. That didn't mean she was going to give up without a fight.

Buffy grabbed one of the men's legs, tugging him from his horse. The horse startled, running back the way it had come. A quick punch to the face disabled the man and gave her a weapon. It was even worse than she had expected. The metal was oddly distributed; it took a different grip to handle because the weight was situated towards the tip, leaving it trailing in the sand if she tried to use it as she would a perfectly balanced sword. Nothing was right here, was it?

With the sword in hand, it was harder to yank the men from their horses and it seemed they had learned caution with her proficient use of the sword. Sadly for Buffy, they worked well together, moving forward in twos or threes to distract her while another made his way behind. She managed to dodge most of their blows but came out looking more and more like a pincushion.

She managed to knock two more out before their maneuvers worked and a blow to the back of the head knocked her out. She never felt the harsh sand scrape over her cuts as she collapsed.

Buffy came to chained to the Earth. The metal brackets around wrist and ankle had little more than a link or two before they disappeared under the sand. Her knees dug into the sand, and she could feel the grains becoming embedded into her skin. She was stripped bare, likely in an effort to find any concealed weapons, and her knees were slightly spread leaving her embarrassingly exposed. Her body was curled around her knees and her head hung between her spread arms. It was a very vulnerable position, submissive, and it rankled the Slayer in her.

There was a sound of cloth as the 'doorway' was pushed aside and near silent feet walking towards her. A woman with mousy brown hair and dark skin leaned over her. She wore clothing in even worse condition than the warriors from before. The woman also looked much too thin. She didn't speak as she dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, lightly brushing it over Buffy face. The woman was efficient as she cleaned her of blood, even reaching under her to clean the deep cut on her chest. The water was a dark bloody color by the time she was finished. Fingertips against her cheek startled Buffy, and looking up showed a deep sorrow and a weary apology before the woman gathered up her supplies and left as quietly as she had come.

It wasn't long before a man, one who might have been on the horses from earlier, came through the door. His stance was arrogant and condescending as he looked down on her. When he spoke it was that same oddly lilting language. The backhand caught her off guard but she guessed he had asked a question. There was nothing she could do, no way to defend herself and no way to miraculously learn his language; all she could do was brace her head with each hit. Finally, the man either got tired of her or realized she couldn't understand her.

The next few days were filled with nothing but the woman coming to clean her each day. The man hadn't been back since then. On what she thought was the fourth day of her imprisonment a robed man came through the tented doorway. His skin was darker than tan, even those of this sun darkened tribe, and he carried himself differently. His walk was more of a rolling gait that spoke of confidence and not arrogance. When he settled himself before her, his words were different. Buffy frowned, squinting her eyes as she listened carefully. She recognized this language. It wasn't anything that she had researched with the Scoobys but it was something that was a part of her, something so deep that there was no way to tell where it had come from.

"Where do you come from, child?" The man's voice was deep and slightly hoarse but it wasn't that that had Buffy cringing; it was the way he was petting her face.

"I'm not from around here." Her snappy retort came out deep and halting and definitely _not_ in English.

"How did you come by your strength?" The man pried. "What manner of demon has possessed you?"

"Not a demon," Buffy gritted out. The petting hand was suddenly gripping her chin tightly.

"I don't believe you," the man said softly as his thumb stroked over the curve of her jaw.

"You can not believe all you like. I'm not a demon!"

A sickly smirk stretched his lips. "There is a tribe," the hand not holding her jaw pointed to Buffy's left, "that way. They are wizards of the darkest sort who claim to serve a higher power; they claim they can save us from the evils that travel the lands. They say they will summon a demon and bind it to do their bidding … all they need is a girl. We give them one of our daughters in hopes that she will have allegiance to us but it seems they have found another. Where is our daughter, demon? What have you done to her?" The man roared as his fingers crushed her jaw.

Things weren't looking at all right. The more the man talked about his daughter the more it was looking like she was a lot further from home than she had first assumed. It was beginning to sound like this wizard tribe had created the first Slayer and if that were true she was thousands of years from home.

The next day, Buffy was moved to the center of 'town', much like they did in medieval times with people in the stockades. She was led through town in chains that she couldn't seem to break. According to the robed man, they had been made for Slayers. They had given up a young girl to a tribe of dark wizards in hopes of having her possessed by a demon, going so far as to have the chains made so they could assure her allegiance to them … and yet they were so 'worried' for her. Buffy snorted, getting a harsh tug on the chains in retaliation.

It looked like the entire town was there, armed with all manner of things and each one chanting "demon". They didn't all seem to be familiar with the language they were using but each one knew that word. There were a few shouts, one stood out among the rest. It was a man's voice and Buffy listened closely. Oh, he was vying for torture before death. Was that what was going to happen? Were they going to kill her? Would her death activate a Slayer in the future or would Giles and the Scoobys be left defenseless?

She was chained to the Earth once again, and she watched with apprehension as the townspeople moved forward around her. There was nothing she could do as the first object came sailing through the air. Pain radiated from the spot a piece metal, nothing more than a small stone but the pain was bright and pounding. Other things followed quickly after and the crowd jeered and laughter as she was bloodied. Oh god, they were going to stone her to death with whatever they could get their hands on. Mercifully, a thrown torch hit her in the head and she welcomed the comforting blackness.

Buffy came to an unknown time later, sputtering and coughing through a mouthful of water as she tried to breathe. Were they making sure she would feel the moment of her death? Except the man standing over her wasn't one of the tribe; his skin color and facial features were all wrong. It took a second for the scent of blood to register over the scent of her own. She was dirty and filthy with blood but every wound, even the deep muscle in her arm, was healed. She moved her hand carefully and was stunned to feel no pain.

Shaking her head, she let her eyes wander. There were three other men tromping through the camp and the sand was littered with bodies and bright with blood. Pulling her eyes from the sickening sight, Buffy took a look at the man above her. He looked almost Roman, like maybe his people would one day be the ones to birth the Romans. He was dressed in the typical garb but it looked to be of better quality than those of this little village. Long, dark hair was cut raggedly and looked to have never been brushed and his face had light blue paint smeared in a large stripe across his face, from forehead to chin, cutting right over his eye and part of his lips. It left a small patch near a pierced ear bare.

She watched as he raised a sword and swung down on her chains. There was a bright spark as metal met metal but nothing gave. It was a wonder that he hadn't damaged his sword. "It's not going to work," Buffy rasped. Days of living off what little water the servant girl could manage to smuggle her had taken its toll on her body; it seemed that not even the miracle that had fixed her body could help that.

The man's face showed surprise as he looked down at her, almost like he hadn't expected her to talk. Her thoughts went back to the servant girl and the way she had never spoken–maybe that was how all woman in this time were.

"Silas," the man shouted causing a large man to look up from his fighting with another man. He ambled his way over, weaving effortlessly through the dead bodies. "The chains."

Buffy sighed in frustration as the man raised a large axe over his head, swinging it down on the chains. It elicited nothing but more sparks. Alright, that's it! She grabbed the next downward swing, wrenching the axe out of the stunned man's hands. She ignored their shouts and the way the first man looked at her as she hefted the axe in her hands. She used the flat side to dig through the sand where the chain was buried. Long minutes passed before she found the spike. Buffy braced her feet against the sliding sand and wrenched with all her weight, pulling harshly on the chain. The spike pulled free from the earth and spun out of her hands. Panting, she gave a narrow-eyed look at the two, now four, men watching her. The least they could do was help, she huffed in disgust.

The next chain came out faster, not having been buried as deeply. It would be impossible to get the chains off without a knowledgeable wizard or witch. It wasn't _all _bad though, at least she had a built in weapon now. It almost made her wish the spikes were wood.

Buffy pulled herself to her knees, eyes watching the men warily as they watched her. The shortest man, the one with only a small skunk stripe on top of his head that ended in a ponytail, watched her as his hands fondled a long dagger. A look from the first man had him glaring but at least he didn't come at her. Was the first man the leader or just the voice of reason?

Whatever he was, he was moving forward. Her focus moved solely to him, eyes flicking down to the hand he was holding out. After a moment of thought, Buffy reached forward to gently place her hand in his. There was a spark between their palms, a warm feeling settling into her belly and buzzing in her head. It was a pleasant feeling, one she could get used to, she decided. She allowed him to pull her to her feet and their hands lingered together as neither wished to let go first.

"Taken on another stray, Methos?" This came from the other long haired man and she shivered slightly under his gaze because his eyes were roaming her body with lust bright in them.

"She is one of us," Methos stated, "or can you not feel it, Kronos?"

"One of you?" Buffy questioned.

"Don't worry about that now. We want to be out of here before the sun rises and we're wasting nightfall."

That seemed to be the cue for the others as they broke up. She watched them paw through the dead, taking tokens, grabbing dried food from stalls, and rummaging through tents for blankets. Methos led her over to a trough where their horses were drinking and helped her clean herself of blood. Buffy looked up as clothing was dangled before, bestowing Silas with a grateful smile that caused the large man to beam.

Clean and dressed, the others not far behind, Methos helped her up onto a horse, following behind her with a promise of her own horse. Buffy wasn't so sure about that; horses had never been too fond of her. Besides, as Methos's arms wound around her, pulling her close, she didn't think having her own horse would be as nice as this.

She had a feeling Methos was going to be an important part of her future and she couldn't say she was disagreeable with this idea.

In an unknown realm, two beings looked into the pool of rippling water.

"Will she make a difference?" The female asked. "Will this world be saved?" She would never admit it to any but her brother but she had come to enjoy this world. It would be … sorrowful if it were to end. It was why she had suggested this course of action.

The male's sparkling fingers trailed through the water, sending out ripples and causing the images within its depths to change. They flickered by so quickly that none were recognizable. "The future will change, but that is what we were hoping for." The man sighed as nothing concrete came from his viewing. "But you know as well as I do, sister, that the future cannot be viewed so linearly."

The female echoed the male's sigh. "Then there is nothing left to do but wait."

The two Oracles settled in to watch the future they had created with their split second decision unfold. It was all a gamble, unleashing an immortal Slayer into the world and placing her with the Four Horsemen, but there was hope that the man Methos became the first time around would happen again. This was the world's last hope.

Buffy and Methos.

The Slayer and Death.

Death was her gift.

Fin


End file.
